Pretend like I do (and it will all go away)
by FlamingDagger711
Summary: Sebastian Smythe's heartless. Everyone knows it, he knows it. He just pretends not to feel. Mildly angsty, pre-glee Sebastian centric short one shot. Hints of a future Kurtbastian relationship. Rated T for suggestive nights, because we all know Smythe isn't wholly innocent, but no explicit scenes.


Sebastian pretends to be a lot of things. Let's be honest, he's a skilled and talented guy with an affinity for the dramatic arts. It doesn't come as a surprise, the way he picks up the art of pretending.

He pretends to not hear his mother's lectures to his father at night, her indignant voice squawking as he doesn't reply, until he does, and _why hadn't she just not said anything in the first place?_ Sometimes the terse silences signify peace in the Smythe household, and Sebastian can ease himself out to the living room and enjoy the night with his family. Then suddenly a switch is flipped and his father is roaring over his head to his mother about how he regrets all his life's choices so "JUST SHUT UP ON YOUR HIGH HORSE VIOLETTA! WHY DON'T I JUST KILL MYSELF TO BE RID OF YOU!" Sebastian pretends that it doesn't hurt that he's expendable, pretends he's not there, and pretends that he's so engrossed in his book that his father's words barely register with him. There's a reason he's got such a great poker face.

Sebastian acts like he's not upset when his parent's decide to move back to the States (where the hell is Nevada anyway?) to be closer to his grandfather, acts like he's not as upset like his mother "I hate your father. Andrew, _you_ hate your father." It's not as if he's upset that their moving away from his grandmere's grave and his childhood friend's, _oh not at all_. He's peachy keen. Friends and family are expendable anyway- that much he's learnt. He can bury his feelings in a good book anytime.

Sebastian tries to hold it in at the restaurant when his mother tells him that he doesn't love her, that he's incapable of love and that he should never have kids because it would just be continuing on the line of heartless Smythes.

"There is something wrong with you, Sebastian. I tried my best to raise you right, but you are sick. You wrote in your philosophy essay that you would save the last heart surgeon on earth over your mother if you had to choose? You are just like your father. You don't know how to love and its too late now. You'll be loveless."

He stares at her uncomprehending as she goes on about family being more important than any of his friends and the community, and if he didn't value her more than the greater good then he was a heartless demon. Mon dieu, it was _one damn thought experiment for philosophy class._ Exactly how many times would he have to choose between saving his mother or the last heart surgeon in the world? They were _supposed to write that answer,_ utilitarianism or something or another had been the topic of the week. What the hell was she-

At the exact same moment, Sebastian felt his heart, or what was left of it disintegrate. He knew his mother had an uncanny grasp of the human character, so who is he to doubt her? He knew that he had an uncanny apathy towards his parents, taking them for granted at times, and he knew that he was selfish. He was heartless- he couldn't feel that rush of happiness that everyone described when they were with someone they loved. He might have, once upon a dream, but not anymore. There a black hole in his chest, a dark weight. Sebastian wanted to be able to sink his hand into his chest to pull out the alive (it was dead now. Rotten and dark) and beating appendage, like the TV series he's watched. However the show must go on, so Sebastian pretends he doesn't have tears coursing down his cheeks, ignores the wracking sobs from his chest, and thinks that it shouldn't hurt this damn much for an unloving person. He looks at his mom one last time, trying desperately to search for the glimmer of regret for her words she sometimes gets, but sees nothing. She's dead serious. Turns out Sebastian's been pretending all his life to be the caring son he was, the loving and nice boy; he's been putting on a mask. From that point forward, he resolves to not care, to stop pretending to be what he's not. He's broken now.

He goes out to clubs and drinks alcohol and goes to bathrooms for quickies with random strangers. He refuses to think that the alcohol is to dim the pain that shouldn't exist in that part of his chest underneath his lungs- there's nothing there after all. There shouldn't be a heavy ache there, its not logical or psychologically possible anyhow. He acts like all the blowjobs and the sex are just him not caring, its not as if he's trying to find the one to mobilise his dead heart. He should stop hoping.

He watches Les Misérables by himself, in dark Ohioan theatre. This has been the second move back from France, but the second trip to his beloved country barely leaves a mark on his mind. He only remembers dark bars and handsome sweet nothings (or dirty nothings depending on the person) whispered into the shell of his ear. Nothing matters anymore, not even the streets he used to love. He doesn't cry throughout the movie, as any unfeeling, uncaring person ought to do; doesn't even consider that watching it in France would have been the most epic experience ever. He only watches apathetically (and feigns disinterest as Hathaway lies defeated in her bed, eyes unseeing- it's not like he empathises with the character at all, what?) The music is good though, but not heart breaking enough to set his soul alight again.

When he's leaving the cinema he sees a boy. Too pasty, his face is drawn in haggard lines, his eyes a bit too wide- but it's a captivating face on an even more captivating body, the type you could stare at for hours and never be able to draw, not really, because of the depth in it. He's chewing out a teenage babysitter who looks deathly pale, clutching a little ragtag boy.

"That child," the high voice snarls, "was nearly run over, because someone should have been paying attention instead of texting her boyfriend without the slightest amount of care for her charge! You didn't even look up when I damn near jumped to fish him out of the way or when the horns were blaring. Had he been run over what would you have told the parents? Could you have faced them as they rued the day that they hired an incompetent, irresponsible little girl to look after their baby boy? That's right feel ashamed! If you take on the role of babysitter, you damn well take the job seriously because this isn't Babysitter's Club here. This is the real world and you have taken on the responsibility for caring for another little life-" and on the boy went. Somehow it culminated in him handing the girl a five-dollar bill and pushing her towards a nearby ice cream truck.

Sebastian could only stare at the impassioned boy who was sweeping his bangs off his face with a huff. There had been something in that high frequency pitch of his that had stirred something within him. Once upon a time, admiration might have been the word for it, but the emotion was too watered down from disuse that Sebastian wasn't even sure. Had he- had he ever seen someone with such… such heart? He had the passion of those that writhed with Sebastian on the dance floor, and the bitchiness his mother, but also an altruistic edge that Sebastian couldn't comprehend anyone (maybe, his grandmere) having. Where had this boy come from?

"What, have you never seen a homosexual before? Take a photograph with your probably preppy phone, it'll last longer than your memory since with that vacant expression you don't seem to have that many brain cells intact," the fire boy snapped in Sebastian's direction. Before he could snap back a wittily sarcastic remark, the guy had stalked off.

Sebastian felt, for the first time in a long time, like crying. It was frustration mixed with indignation mixed with lust (because holy hell that had been smoking), and also regret. Admiration was marred for the hurt that blossomed, and for the first time Sebastian grudgingly admitted (he'd been lying to himself) that he regretted not caring. But what could he do about it? The only person besides his mother for whom he'd ever felt anything more than a twinge in the blood-pumping organ had disappeared. He was resigned to this not caring life.

That moment was one of those surreal moments where you feel everything shift on its axis all at once. Sebastian tried to return to his partying ways at his new school and for a few weeks tried to throw the green (grey? Or blue?) eyed teen from his mind. Until a new chase comes dancing through the door (literally, wow where do they make guys like this? Talk about riot!) and coffee is in order and all of a sudden that compelling face is standing there and Sebastian can feel his heart stop after it starts fluttering to life again. He feels like crying again, but plasters on a face of indifference because that's just what he _does_ , and he's an asshole either way because in his mind's eye he's kneeling on the floor clutching his once again beating heart in wonder.

"Pleasure."


End file.
